


A forming storm

by yesitsalsoagun



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Backstory, Circus, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Young Thunder Legion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-11-26 21:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18185681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesitsalsoagun/pseuds/yesitsalsoagun
Summary: Even the strongest and most well respected mages start somewhere. Here is the story of the Thunder Legion, from the beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

It seemed like an eternity before Freed got some well-earned peace and quiet. No matter where he went, his mothers or his siblings would find him and urge him to go outside.

 

_For once_ , Lucius had said, rolling his eyes.

 

_You could use the fresh air,_ Mother had said, brushing a lock of hair from his face.

 

_Your studies can wait, trust me,_ Olivia had said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

_You might meet someone new!_ Mom had said, practically beaming.

 

Those were all ridiculous reasons, Freed thought to himself as he headed to the library. He had been outside before, there was plenty of air inside, and he _wanted_ to study.

 

Freed paused as the doors shut behind him. Why would he want to meet anyone new anyway?

 

He took in a deep breath of the familiar air. Everything he could ever want or need was in this room. The books—and the knowledge they contained—could answer any question he could ever raise, whether it be about history or science or magic.

 

After picking a few books off of a shelf, Freed sat down at a table and began to study.

 

It seemed like only a few precious moments of silence passed before the familiar creak of the library’s doors met his ears. His shoulders slumped as he suppressed a groan, desperately hoping whoever it was would leave him alone.

 

“Freed,” whispered a child’s voice from beside him. He sighed, running a hand over his face before looking down at his sister, who was clutching a sheet of paper in her hands and bouncing in place.

 

“Do you need something, Clara?”

 

Clara thrust the paper into his face as an answer. He held it a bit further away so he could read it.

 

“A circus in town?” He shifted his eyes from the poster to his sister. “You want to go?”

 

She nodded emphatically.

 

“Then I’m sure someone would be happy to take you,” he handed the flier back to her and turned back to his books. “Olivia, Mother, or Mom would love to.”

 

“No! I want to go with you!”

 

“I’m studying. You can go with someone else.”

 

Clara gave an indignant huff and grabbed Freed’s sleeve. “ _Freed!_ ”

 

He imitated her huff and tone of voice, “ _Clara!_ ”

 

“Why are you acting like Lucius? I want to go have fun, and I never get to see you! All you ever do is sit in this stuffy room by yourself! Aren’t you lonely?”

 

Something formed in Freed’s throat that he wasn’t expecting. He wasn’t lonely. Why would he be? That was ridiculous.

 

“No,” he croaked.

 

“We’re _going_ ,” she said decidedly.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“I’m not leaving until you say yes.”

 

Freed inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and let out his breath in a huge sigh. There really was no way to win with her. He shook his head.

 

“Fine,” he relented.

 

“Yay!” She cheered, jumping in place.

 

He ran a hand down his face and closed his book. It was going to be a long day.

 

 

 

The circus was a relatively painless endeavor. Clara dragged him by the hand all the way there, and he had to pay for their tickets, but other than that Freed had to admit it was…an interesting experience.

 

Clara bounced beside him and _ooh_ ed and _aah_ ed with the crowd as the performers displayed their acts. A girl with dark, braided hair made dragons out of flames, a buff man with no shirt handled various dangerous animals as they performed tricks, and several jugglers threw objects of varying sharpness into the air.

 

One act that particularly caught Freed’s eye was a dark haired young teen, who couldn’t have been much older than himself, on trapeze. He soared through the air, turning and twirling with practiced ease. High above them, he landed on the platform and stood there for a moment, waving to the crowd with a wide grin. As he waved, he took one step back...two steps back…and then fell.

 

Shocked gasps arose from the crowd as he continued to fall, and Freed could feel Clara latch onto his arm.

 

Just when he was about to hit the ground, he disappeared in a cloud of black feathers. Silence hung in the tent for a long moment. Clara’s breath hitched and she held her breath, hugging Freed’s arm tightly.

 

The lights in the tent shifted from a cheery gold to a colder violet. Hushed whispers started up, but were quickly quieted by a loud _CAW!_

 

The audience shifted to look at the source of the noise. Up in the rafters, barely visible, was a large black bird.

 

_Too large to be a crow_ , Freed thought absently. _A raven, then._

 

A fluttering of wings heralded the arrival of another. Then another. And another. Soon there were too many to count. The unkindness sat in complete silence for a beat, before cawing cacophonously and flying for the center of the tent. They swarmed, forming a vortex of dark feathers and red eyes, before coalescing into a single shape.

 

A dark, imposing figure wearing a cloak of black feathers, a dark beak-like mask, and a tall black top hat materialized before the crowd.

 

“Freed,” Clara breathed, daring not to break the silence, “I’m scared.”

 

Surprisingly, Freed found himself spooked as well. He had studied his fair share of magic, but he doubted he could protect himself from someone who could snatch him out of thin air; not with runes that took several minutes to set in. And he doubted there was a spare rapier lying around that he could use to fend the stranger off.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, slowing his racing thoughts. First things first.

 

He awkwardly reached his other hand around Clara, hugging her reassuringly.

 

“It’ll be alright,” he breathed just as quietly. She nodded hesitantly.

 

The two returned their attention to the stranger, whose gaze examined the assembled crowd before them.

 

In one fluid motion, they swept back their cloak, and the young trapeze artist all but fell out, flailing his arms and stumbling away in a wildly exaggerated manner. The entire audience released a collective sigh of relief. Whispers returned; _thank goodness_ and _it must be a part of the show, then_.

 

The figure tapped an intricately carved black cane on the ground once, quieting the room once more.

 

“I am the Raven,” the stranger’s deep voice reverberated in the silence. “And for this next act, I will need a volunteer.”

 

Not a single person raised their hand.

 

Freed glanced at Clara; she had wanted to come, after all, maybe she would want to participate? Those thoughts quickly disappeared when he caught sight of Clara’s wide eyes and furrowed brows, and felt her hands clinging to his sleeve.

 

He shook his head before looking back up at the Raven, only to see their beak pointed in his direction.

 

More specifically, at Clara.

 

They began to raise their hand to point at Clara, and Freed’s arm shot into the air instinctually.

 

“A volunteer,” the finger drifted to point at him. “Come forward.”

 

Clara stared at him, wide eyed, as he pulled his arm free of her grasp. Tears welled up in her eyes, but he patted her on the head reassuringly.

 

_Stupid stupid stupid what was I thinking_ , Freed thought to himself as he walked down to the stage to meet the Raven. He kept his chin raised as his hands balled into fists at his sides. _Stay calm, stay collected, stay composed_.

 

“What is your name?” The Raven asked once Freed joined them in the ring.

 

“Freed.”

 

“You are very brave, Freed, to volunteer for such a dangerous task.”

 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

 

The Raven swept their left arm widely, and a cloud of raven feathers exploded outward, settling down on the ground around a tall, ominous box. Nine blades fell from the sky, stabbing the ground in a circle around the box.

 

“These are the Box and Blades de l’Enfer, accursed creations said to have been made by Zeref himself!” They paused as the crowd gasped. “Any who enter and feel the wrath of the blades are said to disappear, taken by the dark wizard.”

 

The Raven turned to Freed and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Are you afraid?”

 

“No,” Freed said, lifting his chin. This was made up, surely. The dark wizard never made such a thing; Freed would have remembered that from his studies. But perhaps saying that would not make for the best show. “I’ll go in the box. Zeref cannot hurt me.”

 

“We shall see, fearless one.”

 

The Raven straightened up to their usual height and strode over to the box. They pulled open the door and gestured for him to enter. After taking in a deep breath, holding it, and releasing it, Freed stepped into the box. The door shut behind him, leaving him with a sliver of light to illuminate his surroundings. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he could hear latches being locked outside.

 

Taking in another deep breath, this time of slightly musty air, he closed his eyes and imagined the Raven’s grand flourishes around the box. A _thunk_ and resounding gasps caused him to open his eyes.

 

A sword pierced through the side of the box, right through his chest.

 

His heart stopped for a moment as he reached up to touch the blade, hand trembling. He found himself surprisingly relieved when his hand passed right through it. Of course it was magic. All part of the show.

 

More false blades entered the box, the gasps becoming quieter and quieter. Freed hoped Clara wasn’t too spooked by all this.

 

After the ninth sword, The Raven spoke again.

 

“The last blade has entered. Shall we check on the fearless Freed?”

 

The crowd called out affirmatively. The Raven’s boots crunched against the sand until they stood right in front of the door. One latch unlocked. Then two.

 

Then Freed’s vision went black.

 

He faintly heard the third latch unlock, followed by the creak of the opening door.

 

Terrified gasps filled the tent.

 

“There you have it,” came the Raven’s voice, much closer than Freed anticipated. “Perhaps he should have been a bit more afraid.”

 

“No!” cried Clara, somewhere in the stands.

 

Freed’s heart pounded in his chest. Was he really gone? Did the dark wizard Zeref really take him? He looked around wildly, hoping for some clue of his whereabouts in the all-encompassing darkness.

 

A voice, deep and gentle, hummed around him.

 

_Do not be afraid._

 

The Raven?

 

His heartbeat slowly returned to normal as he reexamined his surroundings. The darkness was almost soft, comforting. Patterns in the pitch black around him looked almost like…feathers?

 

_Was he in the Raven’s cloak_? He remembered the trapeze artist stumbling out of it, and sighed. This was a part of the show, then. He hadn’t actually been taken by Zeref.

 

“Wait!” someone cried. “There is a way to bring him back!”

 

“Is there?” The Raven hummed. “Tell me what you know.”

 

“Someone who knows and cares about the one taken has to take out all the swords!”

 

“I’ll do it!” Clara shouted. Freed smiled to himself.

 

“Come forward, then!” The Raven said, closing the door and latching the locks.

 

“How do you know Freed?” asked the other.

 

“He’s my brother,” Clara answered, voice shaky, “I just want him back.”

 

“Then pull these swords from their place and free him.”

 

Freed could only imagine Clara’s determined huff, the Raven’s flowing gestures. He heard the rattling of a hilt against wood, followed by the shifting of sand as a blade was planted in it.

 

“One!” the person from before shouted.

 

Another sword hit the sand.

 

“Two!” A few people in the crowd joined them.

 

Cheers of encouragement rose from the audience, and they shouted at each removed sword.

 

After eight had been removed, Clara shouted, “Zeref, get your dirty hands off of my brother! He’s awkward and stubborn and won’t ever play with me but he’s _my_ brother! Get your own! I’m taking him back!”

 

The crowd cheered as she yelled triumphantly.

 

“ _Nine!”_

 

Quiet washed over the audience as Clara huffed softly.

 

“The last blade has been removed. Shall we check?”

 

The Raven’s boots crunched in the sand, and they unlocked one latch. Then two.

 

Then a sliver of light illuminated Freed’s surroundings.

 

The third latch unlocked, and the door creaked open.

 

“ _Freed!”_ Clara barely waited for him to leave the box before hugging him tightly.

 

“Clara!” He embraced her just as tightly. “I heard you while I was in there. You encouraged me to fight, to return to you.”

 

Clara cried into his shoulder as the crowd _awwed_. Freed looked up over her to see the Raven, resting both their hands on their cane, and the young trapeze artist, grinning with his arms crossed.

 

“You know, I’ve learned something from this,” announced Freed after he pulled away.

 

“Have you now?”

 

If Freed didn’t know any better, he’d say the Raven was smiling.

 

“Love and determination can beat any obstacle, even a powerful dark mage.”

 

“Of course!” Clara beamed. “No one can stop me from saving you, not even a dumb evil wizard.”

 

The audience _awwed_ once again, before standing and applauding. The four of them bowed in front of the cheering crowd.

 

As Clara hugged onto Freed’s side, the trapeze artist leaned into his other ear and whispered, “Nice improv.”

 

 

After the ringmaster thanked everyone for coming and the crowd began to stream out, Clara grabbed Freed by the hand and all but dragged him away. They headed home, Clara sniffling but otherwise excited to share their adventure with her family.

 

“So…other than the scare the Raven gave you, did you enjoy the show?”

 

“Hmm? Yea! The fire lady was really cool! And did you see the big man? And the dude with the huge swords! And! And!”

 

“They were all incredibly impressive,” Freed agreed. He was sure even that last act had been something to behold, even if he didn’t get to see it. “What was your favorite?”

 

“Me, of course! I saved you from a dark wizard, none of the others did that!”

 

He didn’t know what he expected.

 

“I suppose that’s true,” he laughed.

 

After they got home, Freed felt like collapsing on his bed and going right to sleep. That much social interaction coupled with the Raven’s act left him exhausted. Still, something about it had been…fun. Exciting, even. He definitely wasn’t cut out for life in the circus, but the trapeze artist’s comment swam through his mind, along with previous ones from Mom and Clara.

 

_You might meet someone new!_

 

_Aren’t you lonely?_

 

Part of him knew it was ridiculous, but…maybe he’d found somewhere to start.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The hours before a show were always the most hectic. Everyone bustled around backstage, making last minute adjustments and getting ready for the upcoming performance.

 

Rowan had misplaced one of his juggling swords, one of Himura’s fans wouldn’t snap open correctly, and Darius couldn’t find a shirt. The reoccurring stress of only having a little over an hour to prepare was pressing down on the circus.

 

But things would work out. They always did.                     

 

The young trapeze artist wove through the chaos with practiced efficiency, heading for the entrance. Once outside, he took a deep breath of crisp air, and headed for a smaller, dark blue tent just in front of the main one. He slipped inside and plopped down on a cushion in front of a low table. Across from him sat a young woman in purple robes with a scarf over her eyes. Peeking out from under her hood were strands of wavy, light brown hair.  Her hands hovered over a faintly glowing ball.

 

“Hello, Bickslow,” she smiled.

 

“Hey, Cass. What’s it gonna be today? Vague and unhelpful or intentionally misleading?”

 

Cassandra hummed thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowing as her hands danced above the crystal orb.

 

“I see…a bright light, shining out through the darkness.”

 

Bickslow rolled his eyes. Intentionally misleading it was, then. Mama had asked Corbin to fill in for a missing act, meaning everything would be dark.

 

“Thanks, Cass.”

 

“You should be grateful; I give you readings for free. I should charge you for these.”

 

Bickslow snorted, grinning. “Well then, pay up if you want me to do people readings for you today.”

 

“Fair enough,” she shrugged. “Our mutually beneficial arrangement stands, it seems.”

 

He stuck his tongue out at her.

 

“Are you prepared for the show?”

 

“Yea, I can do trapeze in my sleep. Probably gonna have to help Corbin, though. People don’t always like his acts.”

 

“You will do well.”

 

“Always do,” he grinned as he slipped outside.

 

 

Light.

 

Despite Cassandra’s foresight, Bickslow hadn’t been expecting it. Acts where the Raven made an appearance tended to be dark and dramatic, and this town was mostly rich people so he didn’t exactly have high expectations for the crowd.

 

But…as the Raven scanned the audience, looking for a volunteer, a spark of light twinkled in the sea of souls.

 

“A volunteer,” he called. “Come forward.”

 

The volunteer couldn’t have been much younger than Bickslow himself. His attire was fancy for an event like this, and the whole walk down he kept his head high, face unreadable. Of course. What was he expecting from this stuck-up town? Kid was probably trying to prove himself or something.

 

Bickslow was in the middle of rolling his eyes when another soul in the crowd caught his attention. Right where the volunteer had come from was a young girl, hugging herself with tears in her eyes.

 

Oh. Trying to protect her, then. That was admirable enough, he supposed. A valiant, but wasted effort, he thought as he chuckled to himself. Corbin couldn’t hurt a fly.

 

The act continued, with Bickslow stepping in when he thought it was going too poorly, and the kid Freed tried to protect—Clara—saved the show. Her speech and rallying cry at the last sword gave it the final push in the right direction. The siblings embraced as the crowd applauded. Bickslow couldn’t help but lean in to compliment Freed on his ad-libbing.

 

After Mama thanked everyone for attending, Clara grabbed her brother by the hand and dragged him off, quickly disappearing into the crowd. Bickslow blinked a couple times, trying to correct his vision; he could’ve sworn he just saw Freed try to turn back to look at him.

 

Maybe he needed glasses.

 

 

Or maybe not.

 

The following morning, Bickslow groggily climbed out of his bedroll and headed for the entrance of the tent to check on Cassandra. Knowing her, she hadn’t eaten yet. No, she usually got up and sat outside on her mat and shuffled her cards, doing readings in the morning air. How the hell she managed to get up so much earlier than everyone else was beyond him. But someone had to make sure she ate.

 

Bickslow paused at the entrance, however, when he heard her voice. Did someone come for a reading?

 

“You aren’t going to make many _friends_ that way,” she said. He could hear the knowing smile in her voice.

 

A sigh emanated from her customer.

 

“I apologize. I admit I’m skeptical of the abilities you claim to possess.”

 

The voice was familiar, nagging at his sleep addled brain.

 

“Apology accepted. You can head inside; Bickslow’s standing there trying to remember where he’s heard your voice before.”

 

There was an awkward pause before he heard footsteps, and then the tent flap opened wide enough to let in Cassandra’s customer.

 

He found himself face to face with Freed, who looked about as surprised as Bickslow felt.

 

“It’s you! I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

 

“I was hesitant to return, yes.” Freed paused for a long moment, as if at a loss for what to say. “Your performance was exceptional last night. Or…performances, I should say.”

 

“Hey, yours too! Man, when you volunteered your soul lit up like a candle.”

 

“My…what?”

 

Crap. Bickslow froze. He did tend to be a bit of a chatterbox when he wasn’t actively trying to hold all his thoughts in.

 

“Your soul,” Bickslow finally shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. He waved a hand, gesturing to his face, where he knew the mark sat. “I can see people’s souls.”

 

“Oh,” Freed’s eyebrows shot up, mouth open in shock for a moment before a smile grew on his face. “That’s fascinating! Seith magic, correct? I believe I’ve read about that.”

 

Well that was not the reaction he was used to. Or expecting.

 

“Uh, yea, I think. Don’t really have a whole lot of time to research on the road.”

 

“No, I suppose not.”

 

A long silence stretched between them. Freed fiddled with the ends of his sleeves and Bickslow rocked on his heels.

 

“So, what…brings you here?” Bickslow gestured widely to the tent.

 

“Oh, um…” Freed looked up at him, before averting his gaze again. “Well, I…came to see you.”

 

“Me?”

 

Freed’s face turned a shade of pink as he wound his hands together. “Yes. I…thought we could get to know each other. And maybe. Be friends. But that was presumptuous of me, it was a ridiculous notion, I apologize for assuming—”

 

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Bickslow cut him off, raising his hands. “That sounds great. I’ve never been to this town before, so we can take a walk around and chat while you show me the sights. And if you aren’t sick of me by the time everyone here’s awake, I can introduce you.”

 

“Oh,” Freed looked at him owlishly for a moment before coughing once into his sleeve, not-so-discreetly wiping his eyes. He righted himself and nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s go, there is a lot to see.”

 

 

Freed was, surprisingly, not bad company for a rich kid. He used some big words Bickslow wasn’t familiar with, but he got the gist of what he was saying. They walked around town, got something to eat since Bickslow hadn’t yet, and they talked.

 

It was a nice change of pace. The circus was Bickslow’s life, and he rarely had friends outside of it. Even more rarely did he keep those friends when they found out about his magic. _All_ of it, that is, not just the seeing souls bit. It was the controlling them and turning people into puppets that tended to make people nervous.

 

But Freed seemed comfortable in his presence, even though he seemingly knew about the darker parts of the abilities Bickslow possessed. When he wasn’t pointing out attractions in town, Freed talked very little. He mentioned his family, briefly, his mothers and siblings, and how he spent most of his days in the library. He didn’t seem to know what to say after that.

 

“What do you like to do?” Bickslow prompted after Freed offered him the history of the big fancy fountain they stood in front of.

 

“Read,” Freed admitted with a shrug. “I train with my rapier sometimes but…I mostly read. I suppose I’m not the most interesting individual.”

 

“What do you like to read?”

 

“Anything,” he answered almost automatically, before pausing to give it some thought. “I…do enjoy reading about history.”

 

“Really? Not daring adventurers and spell slingers going on epic quests?” Bickslow gestured dramatically.

 

Freed smiled, shaking his head. “There’s plenty of that in history.”

 

“Yea, I guess.”

 

“I also enjoy learning about magic.”

 

“No kidding! Can you do any?”

 

“Not a whole lot,” Freed chuckled sheepishly. “Though I can work with runes adequately.”

 

“Hey, the fact that you can do any at all is super cool! Isn’t magic like, super rare? Not everyone gets it.”

 

“Only ten percent of people,” he nodded affirmatively. “What about yourself? Seith magic isn’t exactly common.”

 

Well, that explained why he’d never run into anybody else who used it. Anybody who could teach him about it, give him tips and tell him it wasn’t something to be afraid of. Tell him that the people calling him cursed were wrong.

 

Nobody _friendly,_ anyway.

 

“I apologize if I said something wrong,” Freed said after a while, reminding Bickslow that he was just staring at the fountain in front of them.

 

“No, I’m just…” he trailed off, attempting to assemble his thoughts. “I’ve never really met anybody like me; anybody who could do what I do. Still don’t really know what I’m doing, I guess.”

 

“Oh.”

 

They stood in silence for a long while before Freed cleared his throat.

 

“If you ever wanted to learn more about your magic, my family has an extensive library. There might be something there that would interest you.”

 

“I…” something caught in Bickslow’s throat that he discreetly cleared away, “I might take you up on that.”

 

Freed beamed at him. “I’ll be glad to help you if you do.”

 

“Thanks,” he smiled back before clearing his throat. “What else is there to see here in town?”

 

“I believe that’s everything.”

 

“Well, in that case, want to meet my family?”

 

 

Freed handled the circus fairly well. It was entertaining to watch, to say the least.

 

They approached the main tent, in front of which Cassandra was sitting on her mat. As she looked up and smiled at them, her eyes still covered, Freed leaned over to Bickslow.

 

“Has she been sitting there the entire time?”

 

“No clue,” Bickslow shrugged. Knowing her, she might have been. Or she could have come back before they returned just to freak them out. Either was a possibility.

 

“Welcome back,” Cassandra called as they approached.

 

“Thanks. Everyone up?”

 

“I believe so. But we all know Rowan is not an early riser.”

 

“To say the least,” Bickslow huffed. He gestured for Freed to follow as he slipped into the tent.

 

No one payed much mind to his return, except for a few stray waves. Freed cautiously stepped inside behind him, catching a few more eyes.

 

“Hey, it’s the volunteer!” Came a voice from the stands to their left. At the very top sat Himura, her black hair in a long, messy braid, regarding Freed with an interested expression as she absently traded a small flame between her hands.

 

Her shout called more attention, and heads turned towards the newcomer. One man in particular perked up at the sight and headed over. His height was the most noticeable thing about him—he towered over most of the others in the tent. But his smile was bright, and his dark eyes held a gentleness to them that couldn’t be matched.

 

“It’s you! I didn’t think you’d come back after what happened last night. I thought we’d scared you off for sure.”

 

Freed stared up at the towering man for a moment before snapping out of it. “It takes more than that to frighten me. And you are?”

 

“Oh! Sorry. My name’s Corbin Dunn. I was, uh. I was the Raven last night.”

 

A long silence sat between them as Bickslow grinned. He loved seeing this reaction.

 

“You are not nearly as intimidating without the…” he gestured vaguely to Corbin, “…ensemble.”

 

“I get that a lot.”

 

“Honestly, last night wasn’t our _worst_ Raven act,” Bickslow commented.  “Last time he showed up and did his thing, we almost got run out of town. I don’t think we can go back there any time soon.”

 

Corbin buried his face in his hands, letting out a muffled, “I’m _sorry_. I didn’t know they were all so superstitious!”

 

Bickslow merely laughed. Another shout caused Corbin to turn back, before waving to the duo and heading off to see what the matter was.

 

The two of them watched the hustle and bustle of the circus for a while longer in comfortable quiet. Darius stumbled out from the backroom, still no shirt, and Rowan apparently lost another sword. After a while, Bickslow turned to Freed. He stifled the urge to laugh at the sight. Freed looked out of place, still, in his rich kid clothes and his rich kid stance. His face was scrunched up in confusion and a bit of discomfort.

 

“Well, what do you think?” Bickslow grinned. Freed’s face unscrunched, and he glanced at him before looking back at the activity.

 

“It’s…something,” Freed answered after a while, chuckled quietly. “I don’t think I’m informed enough to give a proper opinion, but they seem like good people. They seem like a family.”

 

“That we are.”

 

A soft smile grew on Freed’s face as he watched the circus crew. After a while, Bickslow cleared his throat.

 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

 

“But I didn’t get to meet everyone.”

 

“You already look kind of overwhelmed,” Bickslow laughed. “Besides, you can always just come back tomorrow. We’re in town all week, so if you want to come back you can. I definitely won’t stop you. In fact, I’d like it if you came.”

 

His expression brightened. “Really?”

 

“Yea, I like hanging out with my friends.”

 

Freed looked like he might cry. Bickslow really didn’t know what to do if he did so he just clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the exit. Thankfully, Freed followed without crying.

 

Bickslow dutifully escorted him to his home, where he declined to come inside. That would have to wait for another time, he shrugged. Freed seemed to like that. He began to head inside before pausing at the gates, turning his head to look back.

 

“I really enjoyed myself today. I had a lot of fun. I hope…we can do more things like it in the future.”

 

“Yea, of course! That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

 

Freed beamed at him before slipping inside. Bickslow lingered for a moment longer, smiling to himself.

 

Friends. He liked the sound of that.

 


End file.
